


Closing In

by OctoberSkies



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Budding Love, Caves, Claustrophobia, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Friendship/Love, M/M, Panic Attacks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-05
Updated: 2015-11-05
Packaged: 2018-04-30 03:56:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,337
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5149382
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OctoberSkies/pseuds/OctoberSkies
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for Tumblr prompt: "Accidentally falling asleep together".</p><p>When Varlen Lavellan wanders off while setting up traps, Dorian is forced to follow him, causing them both to lose their way on the Frostbacks. Desperate for shelter as night falls, the pair find themselves in a cave, but the challenges presented by personal phobias begin to take their toll.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Closing In

“You know, we wouldn’t have gotten into this mess if _you_ had just done as you were told!”

“Oh sure, _infallible Lord Pavus_ , and what exactly was I told?”

“Not to wander off! _Repeatedly,_ as I recall it!” Dorian threw his hands in the air, exasperated by Varlen’s sheer stubbornness. For his part, the elven man huffed, hooking his fingers into his belt, making a point to _not_ look at the mage as he wandered a few steps further into the cave. The freezing wind was still heavily assaulting them from the opening, and the ground at the rather exposed entrance remained concealed beneath an alarmingly dense layer of snow.  

“Okay, fine. _Blame me!_ That’ll make it all better!” Varlen couldn’t conceal his bitterness even if he wanted to. As he scuffed his boot against the powdery floor, Dorian’s only response was a strangled laugh, clearly drawing near the end of his patience as he lingered at the cave’s opening, peering out into air so thick with swirling snow that it was impossible to see beyond ten yards. The sun’s watery light was rapidly retreating, casting long shadows that yawned into the tunnel of stone, vanishing ominously into the inky black as the passage bent sharply to the right. Varlen gulped, staring into it for a moment, an uneasy sensation clawing at his gut. They’d just… strolled right into the cave out of sheer desperation to escape the biting cold. They had no great desire to sleep out in the open, exposed to the full fury of the Frostback Mountains, after all. They'd probably end up freezing to death without a proper fire or tents. But still… the way it just stretched on and on into nothing, deeper and darker than the void…

“Well _technically_ it—”

 _“—AH!”_ Varlen must have leapt about a foot into the air when Dorian’s voice suddenly sounded off directly behind him. He skitted a few steps forward, his heart racing like a rabbit’s as he choked back a shriek. Then, trying and failing to play off his _gross overreaction_ , he cleared his throat, rubbing his hand absently on the back of his head as he turned to face Dorian, who appeared momentarily stunned by his display.

“I, ah… thought something landed on me. Sorry about that.” Varlen flinched when his voice cracked a little half-way through the sentence, but he followed it up with his best charming smile. He just hoped that Dorian would buy it. The mage chuckled and folded his arms, an eyebrow cocked in amusement as he regarded the elf, whose _traitorous_ _knees_ simply refused to stop trembling.

“Ah, _of course_. And I suppose it was a… what? Giant spider? Or perhaps a _deadly snake_? Surely it would have to be something of that calibre to warrant such a _leap_ of terror, yes?”

Varlen felt his cheeks go a shade of red so bright that he could light probably the darkness of the cave simply by turning to face it. He swallowed heavily as Dorian continued to laugh, breezing past him with an absent pat on the shoulder, dusting some of the clinging snow off in the process.

“I wouldn’t have taken you for afraid of the dark, you know. Don’t your people tend to enjoy outdoor dwelling?”

“Well shit, that’s probably because I’m _not_ afraid of the dark.” Varlen retorted indignantly, hurrying to overtake Dorian simply to prove a point as they ventured deeper into the cave and away from the freezing outdoors. They rounded the bend and walked for a while in complete silence, only the sound of their boots crunching on the stone for company. The light disappeared quickly, leaving them immersed in pitch blackness, eerie and disconcerting. Varlen became unnervingly aware of the sound of dripping coming from _somewhere_ , but with the way the noise echoed, he had no hope of pinpointing its direction. _What if it was saliva, falling in thick ropes from the fangs of a wyvern… or a great bear, slumberin—_

“— Do walk a mite faster, would you? I’m practically stepping on your heels!”

 _“Bite me!”_ Varlen squeaked, before clamping his mouth shut, horrified at the high-pitched sound he had somehow emitted. He had to stop being so jumpy, or Dorian would never stop making fun of him as long as he drew breath!

“M-Maker, what on earth was _that_?” Dorian was the epitome of amused, following so closely behind Varlen that he could feel the mage’s breath ghost along the back of his neck as his rush of laughter took him by surprise. Varlen’s skin prickled nervously in response, sending a shiver racing down his spine. He shook himself slightly, as though hoping to shrug off the sensation.

“Oh _shut up_! Look, just… go around me or something. If I’m walking to slow.” _Please go first_.

“Go _around_? You… You are aware that we can barely walk single-file now, yet alone pass one another, yes?”

Varlen felt his heart seize in his chest as he came to a complete and sudden halt, a sharp hiss of _kaffas_ lancing through the air as Dorian barely managed avoid collision. Varlen swallowed dryly, reaching out with hesitant fingertips. Sure enough, he barely ventured beyond the frame of his body before he felt the rough bite of the cave wall, harsh against his skin, surrounding him like a crushing prison. He retracted his hands with a hitch of breath, as though burnt. His pulse slammed wildly as he realised that if they happened to run into anything, he’d be trapped behind Dorian. Or what if it kept narrowing? Or dropped off? Or--

“--We need to go back now _okay go go go_ walk please!” Varlen wheeled around, pressing his hands to Dorian’s chest, forcing the man to take a few hasty steps in retreat as he was taken by surprise. He shoved, blindly and without restraint, until Dorian suddenly seized Varlen's wrists, jerking them aside, halting his frantic advance. Varlen was breathing heavily, feeling the sweat clinging to his brow like a cold film. He needed to get out of there – he had to get outside! He didn’t care if it was raining or snowing or storming or a blizzard or if the sky was falling or—

“— _len_ , are you listening to me?”

“W-What?” He gasped, wanting to continue his desperate quest towards the entrance, but unable to shift the mage no matter how hard he tried. A beleaguered thought dragged itself to the forefront of Varlen's mind, presenting itself exhaustedly for his inspection. _Why did he feel as weak as a kitten all of a sudden?_ Dorian's voice broke his train of thought, his tone sharp and instructing.

“Varlen – listen. You’re panicking, understand? Just breathe. You need to calm yourself.”

“A-Are you…?” Varlen’s words slurred slightly, and Dorian’s steady breathing faltered a touch at his accusatory tone. His grip remained firm.

“I… Yes. A mild sleeping spell. Not enough to knock you out, mind you.” Varlen tensed in Dorian’s grasp, suddenly acutely aware of the strange tingling sensation where the mages hands made contact with his skin. Dorian, sensing his anxiety, continued hurriedly. “I _do_ apologise, my friend. I loathe doing such a thing without your consent, but you were not responding. You might have hurt yourself.”

 _Or you._ Varlen felt woozy, his head spinning a little, but he wasn’t sure if the spell was even at fault. He swallowed, feeling his legs go weak, and Dorian shifted his grip accordingly, hooking him under the arms with a grunt.

“ _Easy there_. Just take some deep breathes, yes? Think of… I don’t know… Halla, grazing majestically in an open field.”

“Y-You are…” Varlen rasped, between dragging in air painfully as instructed. He could practically sense Dorian’s quizzical frown.

“ _I am…?”_ The mage prompted, still holding Varlen upright as the spell began to wear off.

“… _S-such an ass_.” Varlen’s hissed response was greeted by a bark of laughter from Dorian who, now reasonably certain that Varlen had regained enough of his faculties to stand, released the elf with a warm sigh.

“Ha! I'll let you have that, given the circumstances. No point in denying it at this stage.” His voice was light – utterly unfazed by their predicament. However, although Varlen was feeling _a bit_ more relaxed, a part of him was still churning with white-hot discomfort, barely kept at bay beneath his skin.

“Dorian, come on. Let’s just go back. There’s no point to this. It’s stupid; we could get lost. We can’t even see anything!” His plea was met by a weighty pause, during which Varlen wanted nothing more than to hear one magic word. _Okay_.

_Please don’t make me beg…_

“... Wait a moment, you can’t see? _At all?”_ Dorian sounded genuinely surprised, and Varlen cringed, running a hand swiftly over his face. “I thought elves had rather good vision in the dark?”

“Sure, at _night_ or something,” Varlen fired hastily, his words spilling from his lips, “but not if it’s _pitch black_. How are _you_ even seeing anything?”

“Why, a simple spell, of course. A child could do it. If I had known…” Dorian trailed off with a weary sigh. “I suppose this is the part where I apologise for my tactless use of magic. _Again_.”

“You can apologise all you want once we get back outside.” Varlen insisted, wrapping his arms around himself, despite not feeling cold. He just… had the urge. It brought him no comfort.

“Varlen, the temperature drops _extremely low_ at night around here. You _know_ that. So unless you possess a strange desire to turn us into some sort of fabulous multicultural tableau, this cave is our best option. The further in, the better, really.” Dorian paused for a moment, expecting some kind of resistance from Varlen, but was left surprised when he received nothing but stubborn silence. Eventually, Dorian sighed, but not with impatience. “Listen – it opens up into a chamber in about twenty yards or so. I promise we need not go deeper than that.”

Varlen blinked in the darkness, his terror immediately overtaken by irritation as he thumped Dorian on the chest with the side of his fist.

“Great! Why didn’t you say that _before_?”

“I was under the _evidently_ _false_ impression that you weren’t foolish enough to go matching blindly into a dark cave, remember? Now, enough of that – I bruise easily.”

Groaning, Varlen turned back around, now facing once again towards the nothingness that could have gone on for miles for all he knew. But Dorian said they were close, so he had to believe him. If he just didn't think about it, he could...

... Suddenly, there was a flash, and the entire passage was bathed in a red glow. Varlen's eyes widened in a mix of pain and terror as he saw the walls, soaring up into the darkness, too tall, too narrow, stretching forward, closing in...

"Put it out PUT IT OUT! _DORIAN!_ "

Darkness descended as quickly as it had been banished, engulfing Varlen, wrapping him once again in its embrace. He couldn't breathe; he tugged uncontrollably at the neckline of his thick tunic, as though trying in vain to pull in more air with his grasping fingers. Vaguely, he was aware of a voice, but it was difficult to make out over the sound of his heart pounding in his ears. He squeezed his eyes shut, for what little good it did, trying to push the image out of his mind. It was okay - it was all okay. He was okay. He wasn't going to suffocate - there was plenty of room. There was... _There_...

… Suddenly, a hand, heavy yet imploring, placed itself firmly on his shoulder, gripping it tightly but not enough to hurt. Just enough to give him something to focus on - to drag him out of his panic. Without thinking, Varlen reached up, grasping for it, and he clutched Dorian's hand with shaking fingers, leaning his back to the wall. Gasping breaths raced from his lungs, but despite the frantic sound, Dorian refused to move. He stayed close, patiently allowing Varlen to squeeze his hand like a vice as he reigned in the fear that was screaming through his soul. Slowly, he began to win the fight, drawing comfort from Dorian’s warmth so close beside him, and focusing on _it_ rather than the cold nothingness on the other side. He… had to keep going. They were almost there, right? He just had to...

Varlen steeled himself with a wavering breath, forcing himself off the wall. Taking one shaky step, he was grateful that Dorian had lapsed into silence and allowed him to concentrate, his hand still on his shoulder even as Varlen turned away from him. Another step. _Good_. He could do this. Just... Just one foot at a time. Simple. That's all he had to do. One foot... at a time… And again… too easy…

"... Varlen… a moment." Dorian's voice was soft after what felt like a deceptively long time walking, and at his request, Varlen paused, but not without a slight whine of distress. He had been doing so well!

"What is it?" Varlen took a second to breathe deep, but Dorian moved up close behind him, to the point that he could feel the man's body heat even through all the layers of his clothing. For a moment, Varlen wondered nervously what he was up to, but when he spoke, he sounded... concerned.

"I… feel I should warn you in advance. Just before the passage opens up, it... ah..." he paused, as though searching for a delicate word, but ended up sighing in resignation when it eluded him. "... Well, it _narrows_."

Varlen took a moment to process that particular pearl of information from his mage companion, who he was convinced had been sent by the Creators to punish him. He was already acutely aware of the cave wall already pressing against both of his shoulders - not a lot, but enough to stubbornly remind him that it was there, and that it would not give. He swallowed, taking one shaky breath. Then another.

"H-how much?" He couldn't stop his voice from shaking, and by that point, he didn't care. Dorian hesitated slightly before replying, but when he spoke, he sounded strangely reassuring.

"Significantly, but I do not believe either of us will find ourselves wedged. You will have to go through sideways though. I thought it wise to let you know before we got there.”

"Right. Yeah. Thanks for that." Honestly, Varlen actually _was_ grateful, but at the same time, knowing what he had to do... his hands began to tremble, and he clenched them by his side. This was _the last thing_ he wanted to do. Damn it, this was what he got for wandering off and getting lost in the snow...

"I… could light the way for you, if you believe that would help?"

"No."

"Alright." Dorian did not attempt to push the matter, and for that, Varlen could only feel profound relief. It was worse when he could see it. At least in the dark, he could sometimes pretend he wasn't the tiny elven filling of an awful stone sandwich.

“Are you ready?”

“Yes.” But despite his verbal affirmation, Varlen shook his head; more a confession to himself than anyone else. He was grateful for the darkness, concealing just how pathetic he must look.

“I saw that, you know. We can wait a few moments, if it will help. There is no rush.”

 _Shit. That’s right._ Varlen made a silent vow to slap himself in the face once they got out of there. But for now, he needed to focus.

“No. Let’s… let’s just get it over with.” Varlen began moving again, faster, longing for it to be over and behind him. He launched himself down at the tunnel so suddenly that Dorian’s hand slipped from his shoulder. Varlen faltered at that, and after a few seconds, as though on some unseen cue, the comforting pressure wordlessly returned. A weak smile played across his lips, but it wavered quickly when Varlen noticed that he could no longer walk front-on down the passage. He was being forced to turn by the walls, which began to close in on either side, like a choking hand around a throat. He hesitated for a moment, before swallowing and shifting his position, the stone grating under foot as he placed his back flat against the rock, chest heaving rapidly. Okay… okay, he could do this. It was fine. He was small. So was Dorian. No problem.

“G-Good thing Bull isn’t here, right?” Varlen joked, his voice watery and lost in the dark. But Dorian responded with a polite laugh, squeezing him on the shoulder encouragingly.

“Right you are. _That_ would have been… unfortunate. Small victories, I suppose?”

 “Yeah…” Varlen chuckled nervously as he began to sidle deeper into the dark, the rough wall catching slightly on the back of his shirt as he slid himself along it. One shuffling step at a time. Just like before, only sideways. Easy. No problem. He planted his palms on the wall as well, ahead and behind, which for some reason brought him a little comfort. The smallest amount that could possibly register, mind you, but better than nothing. Dorian was no longer in contact with him, and the moment he realised that, Varlen froze. No. No – it was okay. It was fine. Just keep…

“… Dorian?”

“I’m here. You’re doing well, Varlen. Almost there.” Varlen had never heard Dorian sound so… he wasn’t sure. Amused? No. That wasn’t it. There was an edge to his words, certainly, but it was rounded and warm.

Proud?

_No. Don’t be ridiculous. Just keep going._

The final push through the narrow passage was blissfully short, and Dorian had been right on all accounts. While Varlen had to move sideways and slowly, he had at no point felt the other wall press against his chest, or been made to believe that he would not be able to proceed. The cavern suddenly opened up, welcoming Varlen with a freeing rush as he stumbled into it, practically in tears of relief. But he kept it together, because frankly, he was embarrassed enough as it was. The first thing he did was feel his way to the wall, crouch down, and bring his hands to his face, burying it. Shuddering breaths – in and out – just like Dorian had instructed. He was fine. They were good. He’d done it.

“There. That wasn’t so bad, was it?”

Of course Dorian had done it faster. Typical.

“Show off.” Varlen couldn’t even bring himself to scorn the mage – he was too swept up in the exhilaration at having, well, _not died_. “So… now what?”

“May I light the room for a moment, or would you prefer I refrained?” Dorian asked the question in the same way one would inquire about lunch, but Varlen knew that he was only being so flippant about it for his sake. Dorian would have to know how humiliated he felt, after all, given his embarrassing display earlier.

“Yeah. It’s okay.” Varlen hoped, and the mage hesitated slightly, but did not question his consent. Gently, a red glow began to creep through the darkness, far gentler this time, pushing it back, casting a warm hue over the room. The source was the top of Dorian’s staff, which he had been forced to remove from his back and hold in order to navigate the narrow passage. That must have been why he let go of Varlen’s shoulder.

The elven man released a breath he hadn’t realised he’d been holding when that familiar clawing sensation in his chest did not return. Relieved yet again, he allowed himself to tip backwards as his heart – which had been working overtime – returned to its regular pace. With a low groan, Dorian eased himself down beside him, taking a pointless moment to dust some dirt off his sleeve, as though he hadn’t just gone and sat in a pile of it. He propped the staff up on the wall next to him, its steady glow strangely comforting, although a part of Varlen wished it gave off heat too. While the temperature could not hold a candle to the biting chill of the open air, it still had an edge to it that occasionally sent an errant shiver through Varlen’s core.

“I could light a fire, I suppose,” Dorian agreed when Varlen finally racked up the courage to ask, “however, with nothing to burn other than my magic, I would have to consciously sustain it. And likely not for long, I’m afraid.”

“Ah, I see.” Varlen nodded slowly. That made sense. “Don’t worry about it then – it’s not that bad.”

The silence that followed was not uncomfortable by any means, but there was strangeness to it. It was as though sound was lingering at the back of each breath, just waiting to be released into the cavernous space.

“… Come here.”

Varlen opened his eyes – he hadn’t realised he’d let them close – and tilted his head to face Dorian. The mage watched him with a steady gaze, gesturing again with a swift beckon of his wrist.

“Well, _you’re_ cold, and _I’m_ cold. It would be rather practical to remedy the two problems at once, wouldn’t you agree?”

Swallowing, but not sure why his mouth had suddenly gone dry again, Varlen mulled over the offer. Eventually, he cleared his throat, hoping his voice wouldn’t betray him.

“Well… I mean… _if it’s practical_ …”

Dorian chuckled. “Very good. Now scoot over, yes? I’m not too fond of falling asleep in some strange cave, so we’d best both keep watch. Maker knows what could be lurking about down here.”

Varlen rolled his eyes, but did as he was told rather hurriedly, sliding across the loose stones until he found himself safe in Dorian’s embrace, the mage’s arm wrapping snugly around him as though it was designed for the purpose. At first, Varlen was tense, sitting rigidly next to Dorian, despite the mage appearing positively unfazed by their proximity. But, as they remained beside one another, Varlen’s awkwardness seemed to just… melt away. Eventually, he found himself relaxing against Dorian, sinking into his warmth, vaguely aware somewhere in his fatigued mind that he was meant to be keeping watch.

“… Dorian?”

“Hmm?” The sound hummed from Dorian’s throat, so close that Varlen could feel the vibration. He smiled slightly at that, not quite sure why it felt so nice.

“You didn’t have to follow me, you know.” 

“Really? And risk the Inquisitor’s wrath? _Perish_.” Suitably dramatic, Dorian chuckled, subconsciously drawing Varlen closer as he shifted position. “I – and the world, I’d wager - prefer my skin _on my body_. I take quite a bit of pride in it, you know.”

Varlen thought a bit, imagining how his sister would react to Dorian returning alone from laying out traps with him. That made sense then. He’d been wondering why the man had bothered to trace his footsteps through the freezing mountainside. He must have done it quickly too, because the snowfall was heavy enough that it took no time at all to conceal tracks, as they had discovered when they failed find their way back…

“Besides… it simply would not do for me to lose such a lovely creature in the snow, now would it?”

Varlen blinked, roused from his accidental dozing, not sure if he had heard correctly. He leaned away a touch, turning to glance up at Dorian. But the man had his eyes closed for the moment, breathing gently through his nose, and Varlen strangely did not wish to disturb his peace when it was possible he had not spoken at all. For once. So, he just sighed, leaning back into him, squirming slightly as he got comfortable again.

“… _Sure_.” The word was a ghost, hitching a ride on his breath as he exhaled tiredly, speaking more to himself than anyone else. If Varlen had been looking, he would have seen Dorian’s lips curl into a self-satisfied smile. And so they began their lengthy vigil, with Varlen jolting at every little noise like a fennec, while Dorian simply tightened his embrace reassuringly in response.

 

* * *

 

Slowly, Varlen’s eyes fluttered open, and he winced slightly, his back thoroughly aching from the angle he had fallen asleep in.

_Fallen asleep…_

Suddenly, he remembered where he was. That the red glow was not the sun filtering through his tent, and that the warm body beside him was… well, _certainly not typical_. At Varlen’s movement, Dorian groaned gently, also rousing from his slumber with a pained expression flitting across his features.

“Ooh, Maker… _that’s_ not ideal…” the mage twisted slightly, as though to stretch out his lower back, but for some reason ignored the fact that the movement was hindered significantly by Varlen’s presence beneath his arm. Suddenly, the elven man felt his cheeks grow hot, and he shrugged his way out of Dorian’s embrace, getting to his feet with a swiftness he never possessed so shortly after waking.

“I can’t believe we both fell asleep.” Varlen said hurriedly, attempting to cover up his strange retreat with small-talk, and hoping he had not offended Dorian by the action. But the mage did not seem to even notice as he emerged fully from his daze, yawning luxuriously against the cave wall.

“Yes. Rather amateur watchmen, aren’t we? I can hear Commander Cullen clucking at us from here. _Like a mother hen._ ”

Varlen laughed, shaking his head, and after a moment, he held out his hand to Dorian.

“Come on. It’s probably morning, right? I’d like to get out of this place sooner rather than later.”

Dorian appeared… surprised, if the way his eyebrows raised when he regarded Varlen’s proffered hand was anything to go by. Then, that handsome face melted into a languid smile, and he reached out, accepting the assistance as Varlen levered him to his feet.

“Appreciated. Now, how about I lead the way this time? You can cling to my coat if you’d like.”

“Ughhh, _shut up_.”


End file.
